Spirit
by iilaiia
Summary: Random hurt!Dean, some panicked!hurt!Sam. I really just miss the brothers being brothers. This is completely plotless.


His blood was hot, fiery even as Sam held his hand tightly over Dean's neck desperately trying to stop the bleeding. The wounds were deep, three slashes down the side of his throat. It was a wonder to Sam that his brother was even alive at all. Dean's heart continued to beat fiercely which each effort more and more of his precious life's blood poured out from between Sam's fingers no matter how tightly he held on.

Dean lay on his side, his head elevated on Sam's legs, staring up at his brother with sharp eyes trying to figure out what to do. The pain was enormous and it was whipping out his ability to think. He had to stay focused, he had to keep breathing, stay with Sammy. Don't leave Sammy. It wasn't much of a plan but it was the only thought that kept coming to mind. More than that, it was a strong sense of urgency. Dean could seem Sam starting to really panic. Sam's breathing had increased exponentially and sweat was pouring down him like water. Struggling to find a way to calm down Sam, Dean tried to sit up. Only to be immediately pushed down again by a very angry Sam.

"Are you out of your mind? Don't move again!" Sam all but snarled at him.

Dean swallowed painfully. Angry was better then panicked anyway.

Then Sam signed and shook his head. "I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean to get so mad."

Dean rolled his eyes. He preferred angry to guilty too. "It's fine." His voice was ragged and unnaturally deep. The gashes were playing on his vocal cords. Or at least that's what it felt like.

"Don't talk." Sam admonished gently pulling Dean a little closer to him. Sam looked around, trying to remember where they were. His dark eyes scanned the forest and he realized with relief that they hadn't been thrown very far at all. "We're not too far from the car. My cell phone's in the front seat." He maneuvered Dean's hand and brought it up to his neck. He quickly switched Dean's hand with his and pressed down tightly over Dean's hand, affixing it into place over the wounds.

"I'll be right back. No more than ten seconds, okay?" Dean didn't nod but he didn't have to. Sam leaned Dean's head down on the ground and turned and ran with all speed to the waiting Impala off in the distance.

In his mind Dean began to count. One mississippi. Two mississippi. Three mississippi.

Sam made it to the car and within seconds he had the door flung open and with cell phone in hand, he had just turned around to race back to his brother when a sharp punch sent him flying back into the car door slamming it closed. He looked up in surprise more than pain really at the three guys standing in front of him. He hadn't even noticed their car just behind the Impala, engine still running. Feeling very much like he was having that dream when he stumbled into a play without knowing his lines, Sam staggered forward. "What do you want?"

The biggest of the three snarled and sneered "Your brother cheated us out of our money and I want it back."

Sam shook his head. "Later okay, right now I really have to -"

The big guy cut him off angrily. "I don't give a fuck what you have to do right now. I want my goddamn money!"

"Not NOW." Sam tried to push past them, frightened of leaving his brother too long. 10 seconds, he'd promised. "You have to let me go!"

They grabbed Sam's arms and hauled him towards their car. Terror seized Sam and he bucked wildly trying fiercely to get out of their grasp. "Please! You have to let me go!"

Cold fear gripped Sam. Oh God, Dean. Dean's dying 20 feet away from me and I can't get to him!

Sam managed to get one hand loose from sheer force of will. Sam cracked his hand as hard as he could directly into the big guy's face and brought his leg up to kick the one to his left in one move before they could blink. Which, to my defense thought Sam, would have been a great strategy had there not been three of them. The punches started raining down as Sam desperately flipped open his phone and managed to type 911. He hit send and threw the phone forward through the air preying as a blow brought him to his knees that the GPS was activated.

Fuck, Dean. I'm so sorry.

At 20 mississippi the forest was beautiful. Dean was staring up at the trees as the daylight filtered through there branches. Somewhere birds were singing.

At 32 mississippi the beauty of the world was beginning to get replaced with darkness as his world started to change.

At 47 mississippi Dean began to worry that his brother wasn't coming back. He'd said 10 seconds. He was late now. Why was he so late?

At 55 mississippi he began to worry that he couldn't keep pressure on his neck anymore. Exhaustion and blood loss was taking it's toll and finally Dean's hand fell away from his wounds. His blood began to pool around his shoulders, seeping into the warm soil.

At 74 mississippi he closed his eyes, more comfortable that way and by 99 mississippi he had stopped counting.

Humidity flooded his senses as Sam pulled back to consciousness slowly. The late summer air tasted sweet in the back of his throat. There was a quiet stillness in the extreme heat of the noon time sun and Sam reveled in it for a moment. Then the memories hit him hard and fast and he jerked up, flailing. He wasn't in the forest anymore. He was sitting in a hospital bed and the window to his left was open. All but falling out of bed, he rolled to his feet about to demand to be taken back to the woods when he saw Dean staring wild-eyed at him from the bed beside him. His neck had bandages wrapped tightly around it but his color was back and he looked considerably less confused then Sam felt.

Relief and terror warred on Sam's face until he collapsed by Dean's bedside, letting go of the fear for once. "Oh thank God." he whispered to no one in particular and grabbed onto the covers to hide the fact that his hands were shaking.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath and frowned at his brother's bruised face, now so close that he could see the details of the wounds there. His voice was still rough when he spoke but confident, strong. "Hey there, Sammy. You feeling okay?"

The name, the words, the timbre and the power of those two sentences were so abundantly _Dean_, that it filled Sam with security and joy. Just as Dean had meant it to.

And Sam smiled, bright and long and big into the face of his not-dead brother. "Oh yeah. Yeah I'm good."


End file.
